


The Ruse

by CoraClavia



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Chakotay has a lot of Feelings, Episode: s02e25 Resolutions, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 09:40:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28846935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoraClavia/pseuds/CoraClavia
Summary: He could be happy forever, he thinks. Just like this.
Relationships: Chakotay & Kathryn Janeway, Chakotay/Kathryn Janeway
Comments: 17
Kudos: 106





	The Ruse

**Author's Note:**

> According to fandom law, we all have to write at least one Resolutions fic, right? Thanks to mylittleredgirl for being an amazing beta, as always.
> 
> Song lyrics from "The Ruse" by He Who Never, which was my writing soundtrack.

_I know a girl who was born in the fields,  
the furious nights, and the way that it feels  
to be totally absent  
and fully alive as well_

It happens one sunny afternoon.

The day has been uneventful. He’s been tightening up the insulation in the shelter to keep out the nighttime chill and adding a towel hook to the tree next to Kathryn’s bathtub, and eventually he ducks inside to start dinner. The kitchenette has become his domain out of tacit agreement; Kathryn doesn’t like cooking, but he does, so apart from making coffee, she lets him handle it, and they both like this system.

She’s out in the forest checking her bug traps this afternoon, so he busies himself slicing vegetables and heating up oil in a pan. Cooking has become one of his small pleasures here on New Earth. He has the time; he has a kitchen, even if it is a small one; and he has someone else to cook for, which is the most important thing.

Oil is shining hot, so he puts in onions, sprinkling them with salt and pepper, stirring for a while. Eventually, he tosses in some garlic, and once it gets fragrant, he adds the rest of the veggies and some black beans. The rice is already piping hot on the warmer, and on a whim, he decides to add red pepper flakes to the vegetables.

The door creaks open, and he turns to see Kathryn toeing off her shoes at the door so she doesn’t track mud on their floor. Her eyes are bright, her cheeks are ruddy from the fresh air, and it must still be windy, because there are soft wisps of hair curling around her face, loosened from the braid that’s tossed over one shoulder.

She looks absolutely lovely.

“How was your hike?” he asks, still stirring.

“Exhilarating. It’s such a beautiful day.” She tiptoes across the floor to see what he’s working on. “Dinner?”

“Eventually.”

She leans around him to smell the steam rising off the pan, and hums appreciatively. “Smells wonderful.”

“I hope so.”

She smiles up at him warmly, her small hand squeezing his bicep with easy familiarity.

It hits him like an arrow in the chest: He’s in love with her.

It’s a quiet, thorough love that started without his permission, he realizes, an overpowering wave that he only knows now that his heart is brimming with it.

Kathryn pats his shoulder before leaning back, oblivious to the fact that he’s just had a fairly earth-shattering epiphany while standing over their stove stirring vegetables. “Do I have time to clean up before dinner?”

“Sure.”

Chakotay looks down at the pan as he hears her slip into the sonic shower. With a clear panel built into the door, they’re both careful to give each other privacy when one of them is cleaning up, since they live in a Starfleet-issue shoebox together.

He’s just realized he’s completely in love and he doesn’t know what to do, so he keeps stirring the food.

* * *

In retrospect, Chakotay thinks, it started before this planet. It started somewhere between gentle touches to his shoulder, shared smiles over a console, him chiding her gently for drinking too much coffee and her retorting that she’s just making up for him ruining his with cream and sugar. It started way out among the stars, but it came down to New Earth with him, bound up in his chest, twined through his heart so thoroughly that there was never a chance.

She’s different here. But she’s also still the same, so there was no way he wasn’t going to fall in love with her.

* * *

_And son, I remember the delicate dance  
of my heavy-eyed heart with my desperate plans,  
she could look at you sideways, the moon in her hair,  
and then pick up your past off the ground with her bare hands_

He’s in love, but it doesn’t have to be a big deal.

That’s what he tells himself, anyway. It’s a lie. It’s a big fat lie, and he’s reminded of it every time she smiles at him. Or talks to him. And definitely every time she touches him.

Chakotay knows what she wants. She wants to get back to her ship, to her life, to her crew and her duty and her life’s purpose. She works every day, from morning until night. He’s seen her peering at readings and graphs and tapping equations into a padd, frowning at it when she isn’t getting the answers she wants.

She carries so much worry, as if it’s never occurred to her to set it down, or even let someone share it. Chakotay knows her work is her area of expertise, and right now, maybe the best thing he can do is take care of everything else.

* * *

The bathtub is worth every single scrape and splinter he got while building it, just to see the delight on her face when he shows it to her.

She still works the entire day, but now she at least takes a break. Granted, it’s her thinking out loud about her work while he yells “Uh-huh” and “Yes” from the shelter at appropriate moments, but she always comes back inside looking more relaxed, her eyes brighter.

It’s probably foolish and self-indulgent, but their little conversations during her bathtime always hit him square in the chest, because it feels _domestic_. It smacks of the warmth and simple intimacy of the kind of quiet, long-term romance he’s afraid to think about too much.

Then one night, she gets scared.

The panic in her voice has him on his feet in a moment, reaching for his phaser, racing out into the woods, his heart in his throat.

But it’s just a monkey.

It’s a cute monkey, too. It reminds him of the primates he saw in the jungles of Central America as a boy. No danger, no aggression, just a curious little animal who’s startled by his two new neighbors.

The monkey scampers back into the forest, and Kathryn’s talking, but suddenly he’s fully aware that she’s wearing nothing but a towel. And the towel is fairly small. She’s warm and soft and the line of her neck is elegant, wisps of hair escaping, and the tantalizing pull of physical attraction hits him so hard that he has to excuse himself.

* * *

A few nights later, she’s out in her bathtub again, Chakotay’s in the shelter listening to her musing aloud about looking for commonalities in DNA sequences and occasionally agreeing with her.

“Oh hello,” he hears her say. “Hello, monkey. I’m sorry I yelled the other night. You startled me.”

The monkey squeaks at her, and he hears Kathryn laugh.

“Watch your language, mister.”

A few minutes later, she steps back inside the shelter. “Chakotay, have you seen the sky? I think it might be a full moon tonight.”

She quickly trades her bathrobe for warmer clothes, and Chakotay grabs his wristlight and blankets for them and follows her out to a clearing near the shelter. As she said, the moon is huge above them, and on this planet with no light pollution, the stars glitter fiercely, scattered across the sky like dust made of pure light.

Chakotay lets out a breath. “Beautiful.”

He settles one blanket on the ground, sitting back, and Kathryn settles beside him. She wraps the other blanket around her shoulders, drawing her knees up to her chest, and looks up at the sky. The moon is blazingly bright, and under its silvery light, she looks like a painting, all delicate cheekbones and long lashes and graceful lines.

The sky is beautiful, yes, but Kathryn is breathtaking.

He would kiss her right now, if she wanted it.

* * *

By the time they go back to the shelter, it’s far too late, but they’re both smiling. And when Chakotay falls asleep that night, his dreams are filled with stars.

* * *

_So don’t give a damn what they say about time;  
understand that a minute is sixty quick lies  
that deny you the right to her head on your shoulder  
and suddenly miles become weeks, become older_

Letting go is hard for her.

Chakotay knows that. He sees the hurt in her eyes when she looks at the smashed ruins of her research. Kathryn Janeway has probably never lacked purpose in her life. And suddenly, her purpose is gone.

He does his best to help her stay busy, because he knows they’ll both do better with work to keep them active. There’s plenty to do, between repairing the shelter and clearing out the broken branches. Between the two of them, they make good progress, and within the space of a day, the shelter is safe and livable again, and they’ve made good headway on clearing the area.

By the end of the day, he can see she’s physically worn out. He’s not quite so hard hit; he’s spent a lot of time here felling trees and woodworking, so he’s accustomed to the heavy labor, but he knows her muscles are more strained than usual.

Chakotay’s offer to massage her shoulders is entirely innocent. Even when he finds himself momentarily stunned at the softness of her hair, he keeps his calm.

He hadn’t considered that maybe Kathryn was just as swept up in all this as he is, and she just processes it differently.

* * *

She’s scared.

He doesn’t blame her. It scares him a little, too. But he’s had weeks to breathe in this love, live in it, make his world in it, and decide what he wants.

So he works up his nerve and tells her a story.

Maybe it’s the coward’s way out, sure, but he knows her, and he knows that indirect is the best path. Her whole life is upended, again, and unlike him, he’s pretty sure she hasn’t had a monumental epiphany about love while stirring a pan of vegetables. She needs some small measure of control back, in this world where so many things are entirely beyond control.

His story is indirect, but it’s the _truth_ , and when she reaches for his hand and twines her fingers through his, tears streaming down her face, he knows, deep in the center of his being, that they’re going to be okay.

They may not be in quite the same place right now, but they’re walking towards each other, and that’s what counts.

* * *

A few days later, he’s making breakfast, coffee bubbling nearby, when Kathryn appears from her sleeping compartment, wearing the blue dress he still doesn’t quite have the courage to tell her is his favorite because it matches her eyes. Her hair is down around her shoulders, her feet are bare, and she looks as lovely as always.

“Any plans today?” he asks, spooning oatmeal and yogurt into bowls. They don’t have schedules here on this fairytale forest planet, but even now that they’ve accepted this is the reality of their lives, they’re both far too industrious to laze around.

Well, he’s moderately industrious, but Kathryn’s extremely industrious. She’s the absolute antithesis of lazy.

“I saw some plants out by the river that looked like they might be edible,” she explains. “I figured I could go scan them and see what else I can find.”

“Sounds good.” He hands her a cup of coffee and carries their breakfast to the table. “It’ll be nice to have more fresh ingredients.”

She takes a long sip of her coffee. “I was also thinking—we have plenty of room for a garden, don’t we? Kes left us plenty of seeds from the airponics bay. We could take soil samples and plan some crops that would do well.”

“I agree.”

They finish breakfast with a bit more idle chatter, and once the table is cleared, Kathryn starts packing her tricorder and a few other supplies in her bag.

He’s thinking about today’s projects—he’s still thinking about expanding their living area, and he decides it’s a good day to check the river for stones he might use for a firepit, and maybe see what size timber he’s going to be working with.

Chakotay’s been lost in thought, so it takes him a long moment to realize that Kathryn’s standing in front of him, looking up expectantly. He shakes his head. “Sorry, just thinking. Something you need?”

After a moment’s hesitation, she puts her hand to his cheek and tugs him down for a kiss.

It’s delicate, light as a feather, brief and perfect, and his heart stumbles in his chest.

The kiss is a question, a careful foot dipping into the water, and he squeezes her hand gently, trying to make sure she understands that the answer is, has always been, will always be, _Yes_.

* * *

She goes off to forage, he goes off to look for rocks and trees, and he can’t explain it, but he knows that somehow they’re both carrying that kiss between them, all day.

* * *

_So maybe I’ll trade in the suit and the tie  
for a life in the trees and the sound of her sigh,  
where I don’t need the ruse, and all I believe  
is the way that she laughs with her tongue in her teeth_

He could be happy forever, he thinks. Just like this.

It’s an unusually hot afternoon, the sun high in the sky, just wisps of clouds drifting across the brilliant blue. In a rare moment of self-indulgence, they’ve both decided to relax for a while. He’s set out a blanket, and they’re settled in the shade beside a clearing, enjoying the breeze.

Kathryn, who always has to be doing something, is reading.

Well, she _was_ reading. But she dozed off a while ago, and now the padd has slipped from her hands onto the blanket beside her. She’s on her back, one arm folded under her head, shoes long since kicked aside, and her face is peaceful, her breathing slow and even.

He’s never watched her sleep before.

Despite the many steps forward they’ve taken, their physical relationship hasn’t progressed past a handful of kisses. She’s a cautious person with her personal life. He knows this, and he also knows better than to doubt how she feels. She’s as tactile as ever, but now, everything feels different. Every soft touch to his arm, every time she squeezes his shoulder, every smile, means something.

Even the fact that she’s here, asleep beside him in their little bit of heaven, is a step forward.

As much as he’s enjoying the moment, he’s tired, too. He spent the morning chopping wood and hauling it back to the shelter, and his muscles ache. Between the heat and the soothing breeze, sitting here in the shade, he can feel himself getting ready to nod off.

He stretches out beside her, careful not to press too close. It’s enough to be beside her, enjoying this perfect afternoon, and ever since he took his heart in his hands and told her a legend that he made up on the spot, he’s been determined to give her whatever she needs. Time, space, room to think: whatever Kathryn Janeway needs, he’s here to give her.

He’s just started to get comfortable when she lets out a sigh, and to his surprise, she yawns, blinks sleepily, and pushes herself closer, until she’s curled up against him, her head settling contentedly on his shoulder.

“Just a few more minutes,” she murmurs, burrowing closer. “Promise.”

She’s asleep again in a moment. Chakotay closes his eyes, focusing on her soft breathing, the warm weight of her against him, her hand bunched loosely in the linen of his shirt.

He could be happy forever, just like this.

* * *

_Oh, to be totally absent  
and fully alive as well_

They’ve been back on the ship for two weeks, and Chakotay feels like he’s trapped.

It’s ridiculous, really. He was living with another person, in a house the size of a shoebox. But now, back in his spacious private quarters with his own bathroom, his own fresher, his own replicator and furniture, he feels stifled.

He hasn’t been alone with her since they came back to _Voyager_.

It’s not that they’ve been avoiding each other. Probably. Maybe. They’ve both been busy; there have been plenty of reports and personnel issues to catch up on after their three months away, and they’ve only been in each other’s company around members of the crew.

It’s all right, though. Chakotay has a lot to process. He’s sure she does, too.

* * *

After his shift finishes one evening, Chakotay’s in his quarters, pondering his dinner options, when his door chime rings.

To his surprise, it’s Kathryn Janeway.

He scrambles to his feet. “I—Captain.” It feels too raw to call her _Kathryn_ here. Now. Like this. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

She looks as hesitant as he feels. “I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“It’s no bother. Please, come in.”

“Actually, if you’re not busy, would you come with me?” She must see the hesitation written on his face, because for the first time since they left paradise, she touches his arm. “Please? There’s something I want to show you.”

As if he could possibly say _No_.

“Of course.”

* * *

They stop in front of Holodeck Two, and Kathryn pulls up a program whose name he doesn’t recognize. The door opens, and as they step inside, Chakotay’s breath leaves him.

It’s New Earth.

The moon hangs luminous above them, surrounded by sprays of glittering stars. The night breeze is balmy on his skin.

He finally, finally finds his voice.

“You did this?”

She nods slowly. “I used the tricorders to feed the data back to the shuttle’s processor. It took some work to compile it properly. I just finished setting it up yesterday.”

“When did you make it?”

“The night before we came back.” She’s still looking up at the sky. “You fell asleep early, but I just couldn’t. So I went outside. And it was such a beautiful night, I just thought—”

“It’s beautiful.” He has to swallow around the lump in his throat.

“I’m glad you like it. I—"

Kathryn pauses. She’s working her way up to something, he can see. She’s plotting the course.

“I’m sorry I’ve been avoiding you since we got back,” she says quietly. “It’s just…”

He nods. “I know.”

It’s just that they were falling in love. Together. And now they can’t be.

Kathryn finally turns to look at him, and the moonlight glitters on unshed tears in her eyes. “You gave me so much. I thought, at least I can give you this.”

His hand finds hers, and their fingers twine together. It’s a kiss without being a kiss. It’s what they can have, here, like this.

“Thank you.” His throat aches, and he has to take a breath. “Thank you, Kathryn.”

There’s a piece of his heart that’s still aching, low and dull against his ribs, the piece that wants to take her back to their soft little cottage on their little paradise planet and kiss her again and never, ever stop. But somehow, the ache isn’t as bad as it was, even just an hour ago.

“I’m not sorry.” Her voice is so quiet, he almost misses it. “About any of it.”

“Neither am I.”

They both fall silent, looking up at the moon they once kissed under, listening to the wind rustle the trees, and Chakotay silently thanks whatever spirits might be listening.

Because they can’t have the real thing, not yet.

But she’s brought back the memory for them to share.


End file.
